The book of Exodus and the sages of the Midrash explore this very idea.

In Exodus 32:7, we read, "The Lord spoke to Moses: Go descend; for your people, whom you brought up from the land of Egypt, have acted corruptly." The Midrash, specifically Shemot Rabbah, dives deep into this moment. Rabbi Tanhuma bar Abba opens with a powerful analogy from Proverbs 25:14-15: "Clouds and wind but no rain, [is a man who glories in a false gift.] With patience, a commander is enticed."

Think about it. Someone who boasts about a gift they never deliver is like a storm that promises relief but brings only disappointment. The Midrash connects this to the generation of the wilderness. According to the Midrash, when the Israelites stood at Sinai, they were an impressive multitude: six hundred thousand elders, alongside equal numbers of young men, lads, and women. That’s a LOT of people! When they accepted God’s kingship, declaring in unison, "Everything that the Lord spoke, we will perform and we will heed" (Exodus 24:7), their voice was like thunder itself.

But then, in the wilderness, they faltered. They "violated everything and corrupted their actions." God saw this and told Moses, "Go descend, for your people…have acted corruptly [shiḥet]." Shiḥet, the Midrash emphasizes, signifies a deep corruption of their deeds, mirroring the verse in Deuteronomy 32:5: “They behaved corruptly [shiḥet], not from Him; His children, it is their blemish.” It wasn't just one mistake.

The Midrash doesn't hold back. This "revelry [seḥok]" (Exodus 32:6) wasn't innocent fun. It encompassed idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, and even bloodshed. How do we know seḥok can mean such terrible things? Well, the Midrash points to examples like II Samuel 2:14, where "play [visaḥaku]" leads to violence, and Genesis 39:17, where Potiphar's wife accuses Joseph of intending to "mock [letzaḥek]" her, implying a violation. According to Abba, the expounder (cited by Rabbi Tanhuma bar Abba), even Ḥur, a figure of great stature, was killed during this time.

But there's another layer to this. "The Lord spoke [vaydaber] to Moses: go descend," in anger. Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests that dibur here signifies harsh words, akin to Genesis 42:30: "The man, lord of the land, spoke [diber] harshly with us." In that moment, Moses witnessed the ministering angels rising, ready to unleash destruction upon Israel.

What did Moses do? Did he abandon his people? Absolutely not! He knew that if he left, Israel would be lost forever. So, he stood his ground and pleaded for mercy. He reminded God of their virtues: their acceptance of the Torah when Esau rejected it, their immediate faith in Egypt, the sacrifices offered by their young men. Each time, God countered with their transgressions: "They transgressed regarding the performance… They transgressed regarding the prostrating… They transgressed regarding the sacrifice… They violated it."

But Moses persisted, invoking God's own words from Sinai: "I am the Lord your God" (Exodus 20:2). Even in their betrayal, Moses saw a glimmer of their initial commitment. It was a desperate plea, a battle of wills, but ultimately, it worked. Moses, through his unwavering advocacy, "voided the punishment." This, the Midrash concludes, is the meaning of "with patience, [a commander is enticed]" (Proverbs 25:15).

What does this all mean for us? It's a reminder that we, like the Israelites, are prone to falling short. We make promises, we strive for ideals, but we often stumble. But it's also a story of redemption, of the power of advocacy, and the importance of remembering the good, even when faced with disappointment. And maybe, just maybe, it's a call to be a little more like the rain – to deliver on our promises and bring real sustenance to the world.